


The Radio Studio

by DrownedRedhead



Series: The Arts College [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College AU, M/M, art student yams, college radio dj tsukishima, listen i dunno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:00:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6270538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrownedRedhead/pseuds/DrownedRedhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yamaguchi Tadashi has a mild infatuation with the college radio's anonymous DJ. He doesn't know it, but the DJ just might feel similarly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Art Student

Art colleges aren’t the single most common thing in Japan, but Yamaguchi Tadashi had been accepted to a fine arts college in Tokyo. His mother had fluttered over him while he packed, fluttered while he got on the bus, and then called him thirty minutes later to flutter some more and tell him to make sure he ate.

She’d settled down a little now he’d been settled in for a while and reported back every weekend that yes, he’s eating enough, and yes, the teachers are fine, and yes, his grades are just fine, and no, he doesn’t have a girlfriend because he hasn’t been looking he’s been focusing on school. His mother takes this in stride, and he’s not sure why she keeps asking because she should know by now that he’s just not interested. Well, that’s not entirely true, but he can’t tell his mom that or she’ll grasp onto it like a life line. There’s this one girl in his basics of design class, and there’s this guy a couple rooms down from his dorms, but it’s superficial attraction more than anything else.

And he certainly can’t tell her he’s in love with the late night college radio DJ despite never having met him. Yamaguchi tries not to even tell himself that, because it’s ridiculous. He realises that he’s been standing in front of his canvas without moving for at least five minutes, trying to convince himself that he’s not a mildly delusional teenager.

Yamaguchi wipes his paintbrush on his apron and sighs, looking around. The room is mostly empty and dark now and he glances at the clock. He blinks, surprised at how late it’s gotten. When had midnight passed? He wipes his hands off and sets about cleaning up. He’s sure there’s paint on his face, but he doesn’t bother washing it off. Instead, he washes his hands and finds his mp3, making sure it was tuned to the college radio. He shoves it in his pocket and stores his unfinished painting on the rack.

The late night shift starts at eleven and last until one, when the radio goes on autopilot so that the late night DJ can get some sleep. Yamaguchi hadn’t really been interested in the DJs, but he’d listened to the college radio because the commercials were less irritating. Then, one night before the end of semester, he’d been up late, working on his term piece. The radio had been running in the background and the evening DJs shift ended.

“Well kids,” she’d said, yawning, “this is Blondie, signing off. We’ve got a new DJ for the late night now that Sugar’s graduating a semester early. Lucky sod. All yours, Firefly.”

Yamaguchi had paused, covered in clay up to the elbow. He’d liked Sugar because he could always tell when the DJ smiled; it leaked into his voice. Would he like this Firefly too?

“I never really understood this codename thing, but college art kids, I suppose,” was the first thing the new DJ said. Yamaguchi had blinked, surprised by the low voice and the hint of derision in it. He had wiped his hand off and turned up the radio before going back to his sculpture.

Firefly was witty, making snide comments about music choices and musicians. He seemed to like dinosaurs, or at least have a wide bank of knowledge that he liked to pass off to the late night listeners, and international politics. In between the regular songs, soft music no doubt chosen to be background music to studying, sometimes he’d play his own music and Yamaguchi was startled to find they had similar taste.

“You know; I’ve been thinking about starting up a segment. Is that the right word? Send in five songs and I’ll play them. Break up the monotony a little. I admit that, considering the time, I don’t expect much, but ah well.”

He’d set up a section on the college radio’s website and every Saturday, Yamaguchi sent in five songs under the name Constellations. It’d been the first thing he’d thought of, but he’d come to like it; he’d always liked stars.

“I think,” Firefly announces, shaking Yamaguchi out of his reverie, “that I like this kid.” He scrambles for what the DJ had said before. Finally, he finds it: “more songs from Constellations.” Yamaguchi blinks in surprise, turning pink.

“I like your consistency, Constellations, and your music taste. So, here’s Melancholy Hill.”

Yamaguchi fumbles with the doorknob to his dorm, trying and failing to process what he’d just heard. He swallows and lets his hand drop. Now or never? He turns and rushes out of the dorm. He walks across campus with his hands shoved into his jacket. The radio studio doubled as a CD shop, selling a few records as well, with the back soundproofed and made into the studio.

Yamaguchi pushes open the door quietly. There’s no CLOSED sign and there’s light in the front area, so he assumes that he’s allowed in. He peruses the CD racks, trying to figure out what to say, how to feel about the situation. Sure there were lots of flaws in his plan, one of which being ‘what if he’s not interested in guys’ and the other being ‘would he want to be friends with some random kid’, but he brushes those aside. He digs his fingers into his palms.

“That’s a wrap. It’s one and I’m tired. Have fun with the playlist.”

Yamaguchi swallows, his heart in his throat. Dear Lord, was he actually doing this? He finds himself in the English Indie section and picks up a CD, not really seeing the band. In his jacket pocket, his fingernails dig grooves into his palm.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

He jumps, nearly dropping the CD. There was no mistaking that voice for anyone else but the late night DJ known as Firefly. Yamaguchi’s mouth grows dry, any thoughts about what he might say gone. Tall, wiry, and glasses clad with messy blonde hair, he’s just Yamaguchi’s type.

“I, um, it’s. I was looking for,” he fumbles with the CD, the latest Gorillaz album, dear God. “I was, it’s too late to go to a regular store but I thought this might be open and,” he cuts off his mumbling when he processes the bemused raised eyebrow. The other man looks him up and down, then his eyebrow raises a little farther.

“Well, well, well. Has my wit abandoned me or are you him?” His voice is low and amused, but there’s something underneath it that makes Yamaguchi’s stomach twist. Yamaguchi looks down at the CD in his hands, not sure what to say.

“Who?” He manages eventually, stuttering a little and sounding strangled. The other man walks up to him, taking the CD from Yamaguchi’s hand.

“Let me ring this up for you.” They both know that ‘Constellations’, hangs unsaid at the end of the sentence. Yamaguchi fumbles in his pants for his wallet, trying to ignore the blood blister he’d given himself on his palms.

“Tsukishima Kei,” the DJ says eventually, scanning the CD. Yamaguchi chokes.

“Yamaguchi Tadashi,” he mumbles. Tsukishima grins at him and leans against the counter. There are traces of mockery in his grin but his voice is sincere.

“I like your shirt.” Yamaguchi looks down and turns scarlet. Of course. Oh god, of course. The space shirt, purple with a big moon on the chest, and the Gorillaz album. It wouldn’t be hard to connect the dots. Or the stars, as it were.

“I, oh hell,” Yamaguchi sighs, covering the side of his face with his hand. Tsukishima laughs quietly, fanning himself with the CD. Yamaguchi fumbles with his wallet but eventually manages to pay for the CD.

“Star crossed lovers,” Tsukishima says, grinning at him. Yamaguchi turns scarlet but doesn’t protest so Tsukishima doesn’t call it a joke. Yamaguchi is starting to panic, so he grabs the CD and thanks Tsukishima.

“Come see me again,” Tsukishima calls, waving as Yamaguchi flees.


	2. The College DJ

Tsukishima Kei has always had good grades. College prep classes, academic awards, scholarship offers. But Tsukishima Kei has only two loves in this world; teasing people, and music. So when a new general arts school opened in Tokyo offering classes in music composition, music technology, and anything else he could want, he didn’t hesitate to apply.

His mother was a little disappointed that he didn’t go to a traditional college, but his brother had talked her around, saying that it was a good choice for him if she wanted him to be happy. She considered for a while, then decided that considering her emotionless son showed more emotion for music than anything else, his passion would end up getting him a legitimate career out of whatever he decided to do.

He’d gotten on the bus to his mother’s loud, if mildly tear choked, encouragement and his brother’s chattering, who was going with him for the start of his own semester. Tsukishima bears his brother’s conversation for a while then mumbles something about sleeping on the ride and puts his headphones on.

Tsukishima’s mother calls every so often to catch up, but he thinks that she has Akiteru checking up on him because he just ‘drops by’ from time to time to interrogate him. He doesn’t mind, actually, because he hasn’t made any friends, really. He’d had a few acquaintances in high school, but no close friends, and the trend has continued into college.

A few days before semester end, after his technologies class, a girl in the same program had approached him, looking shy and unsure of herself. She’s so much shorter than him he almost didn’t notice her until she tapped his elbow.

“Um, Tsukishima? I’m Yachi Hitoka, assistant manager and DJ for the college radio,” she says, making it sound like a question. Tsukishima nods, watching her silently. He’d approached the studio at the beginning of the year about working there, but they’d had no openings aside from general clerk for the shop side and he had no interest in working with the unwashed masses.

“Yeah,” he says after realising she hadn’t said anything, presumably waiting for an actual reply.

“Um, one of our DJs is graduating at semester so we have an opening now. We have on file that you approached us about being a DJ. Would you, um, are you still interested in the position?”

She looks up at him when he says nothing. He doesn’t look any different but he somehow seems more enthusiastic. He was, in fact, stamping down hard on that enthusiasm to keep it off his face. He puts a notebook in his bag, taking slow breaths to keep his voice calm.

“Yeah. That’d be great.”

“Um, he had the late night shift, from eleven to one. Is that okay? We might be able to switch it up a little, but-”

“No,” Tsukishima interrupts. “No, the late night shift is fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“That’s fantastic! Come by around ten and the manager will introduce you to the inner workings.”

Tsukishima had done just that and at the turn of the semester he’d been introduced. He’d been informed they all had nicknames and had considered for a couple days until deciding on simply Firefly. He’d settled in admirably. After a while, he had an idea. After approaching the manager, his idea had been approved and a section on the student radio website had been made so that a student could submit five songs they wanted played.

And that’s when it started. Every Saturday since the week the website was finished he’d gotten a submission under the name Constellations. It’d amused him the first time he saw the name, but then he’d started looking forward to the submissions. They had similar music taste and the consistency gave him a sense of security. After a while, he noticed that they’d gone from a collection of songs to love songs and he felt strangely jealous.

Tsukishima isn’t known for his emotional attachments, which is why the revelation that he’d gotten attached to someone he’d never met or even knew the name of, was a particularly shocking one for him. Deciding what to do might have been easier if he had someone to talk to, but he couldn’t tell his mother and Akiteru would go all gooey that he wanted to make a friend. So he decided to wing it.

“Let’s see, time for those submissions. My Saturdays sure are consistent recently; more songs from Constellations. I think I like this kid. I like your consistency, Constellations, so here’s Melancholy Hill.”

It wasn’t quite an invitation, but it was the first thing he thought of when he’d seen the name pop up on his screen. He plays the songs and eventually the end of his shift comes so he puts the radio on playlist. Tsukishima yawns and stretches, feeling his spine crack satisfyingly. He sighs and pushes open the door to studio.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Irritation creeps into his voice, one hand on his hip. He wanted to lock up and go to bed, not be the only person around to check out some owl student. Art school seems to attract the nocturnal types.

The boy jumps, looks up at him, and all Tsukishima’s irritation flees. Somehow he’s sure that this is the kid sending in those songs. He doesn’t tend to rely on instinct, but he can’t shake the feeling that this kid is Constellations. The boys hair is messy, there’s paint on his forehead like he brushed hair out of his face with a paintbrush still in hand, he’s thin in a way that makes Tsukishima think that he forgets to eat when he gets into something, and more than anything, the flush on his already dark skin pokes at something in Tsukishima that he thinks is undeniably primal.

“I, um, it’s. I was looking for,” the boy stutters, fumbling with the CD. The latest Gorillaz album. “I was, it’s too late to go to a regular store but I thought this might be open and,” he trails off pitifully. Tsukishima looks him up and down, focusing on the starry night tee-shirt and freckles. Oh yeah, this has got to be him.

“Well, well, well. Has my wit abandoned me or are you him?” Tsukishima says, lip curling at the corner. He’s amused by the boys’ expression, but his heart is pounding in his ears. He stomps on the strange nervousness curling in his gut.

“Who?” The boy manages, sounding strangled. They both know. Tsukishima isn’t sure why he denies it because the flush on his cheek and the way he won’t look Tsukishima in the eye is more than enough to tell him. Tsukishima walks up to him, resisting the urge to grab the other boy’s face and slam their lips together, just to make his point. Instead, he takes the CD.

“Let me ring this up for you,” Tsukishima says, walking around the counter to the register. The boy trails after him, fumbling in his jacket pockets for his wallet. Tsukishima considers his next move carefully. Up to this point, he’d been moving on instinct but the boy seems frightened. Probably just anxiety, but there was no need to be inconsiderate.

“Tsukishima Kei,” he says, scanning the CD. It seemed a safe enough topic, just introducing himself. His hypothesis is proved correct when the other relaxes a little.

“Yamaguchi Tadashi,” the boy replies, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Tsukishima can’t help but grin, glancing at that shirt again. Ridiculous.

“I like your shirt,” Tsukishima says, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. It doesn’t work and Yamaguchi’s entire face darkens. He looks down at his shirt and seems to struggle for the right words. His mouth opens and closes a couple times then he covers one side of his face with a hand.

“I, oh hell,” he mumbles. Tsukishima smiles and waits, fanning himself with the CD vaguely. Yamaguchi looks like he wants to say something but fumbles with his wallet instead. His hands are shaking and he jumps when Tsukishima’s hand connects with his as he hands over the CD.

“Star crossed lovers?” He says, lips curled slightly at the edges. Yamaguchi somehow manages to blush even darker. Is he going to pass out from all the blood in his face? Yamaguchi snatches his hand back, clutching the CD to his chest, and turns with mumbled thanks. Tsukishima waves at him cheerily.

“Come see me again,” he calls. Yamaguchi positively runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The latest chapter of Something Blooms was put up really late yesterday, so I rushed a little to finish up this one. This'll probably be the end of it, because I have deadlines for my own novel coming up and I have to focus on editing. I am glad that this got a good response, though! Maybe I'll put up another story and make it a series, if I have time.
> 
> EDIT: I'm in too deep. There's four of them now - in planning anyway. I've done two and it took, like, months. I'm in too deep. Save me from the beautiful children.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
